The First Time
by IwillYURIforYAOI
Summary: Sam comes to John in the middle of the night after being badly injured. John takes care of him. M rated for strong mentions of abuse and violence and first time sexual content. Yaoi, don't like, don't read.


**A/N: This basically is my main headcanon for all of my I Am Number Four fanfiction. If you've read my other stuff and didn't get what I was going for, here's probably why. It took me some time to actually find out what I was trying to say in this fic. Hope you like it.**

The first time Sam snuck into John's room in the middle of the night, John almost had a heart attack. He'd just left his bedroom at about two am for a glass of water in nothing but fleece pajama pants then crept back upstairs, wondering why he chose to be so quiet now that Henri was dead and no one else lived in the house with him. He finally got back to his room and turned to shut the door soundlessly. When he turned back around, he'd dropped the glass of water on the floor and spilled its contents all over the carpet.

Sam sat on his bed, his back to the door, looking at the open window that he'd obviously crawled through, the wind blowing into the room, sending the papers on John's desk skittering around the room. John shivered at the cold and crossed the room in two seconds, ignoring the water seeping into the carpet, focused only on how cold the room must be for the already shivering Sam who wore nothing but boxers and a t-shirt. As soon as the window was closed, John turned back to the brunette – and gasped.

Sam's face was badly bruised as was most of his collarbone and John could only assume the rest of his chest. His cheekbone was cut and bleeding profusely, as was his forehead. He hung his head, wiping the blood that dripped into his eyes off with the pad of his thumb.

"What the hell happened?" was all John could think to say. He was too badly shocked at the sight of Sam like this to be eloquent and forgiving. The first emotion he felt – after the initial moment of panic – was anger. He was going to kill whoever did this to Sam. And he had a hunch it had something to do with his stepdad.

"Nothing. I just – needed to get out of the house for a bit. Y'know?" Sam kept his head down, smearing the blood on his forehead around without any of it actually clotting.

"Sam," John said, infinitely more tender than his earlier outburst, but Sam continued looking at the ground. John sighed. "If you keep doing that, you're going to drip blood on your shirt," he finally said, and Sam's eyes flicked up to his face. "I know it's your favorite."

John walked to the bathroom across the hall and wet a washcloth, taking it back into his room and tenderly touching it to Sam's face. The brunette winced, but at John's gentle touch, relaxed into the feeling. Once all the blood was cleaned and the washcloth returned to the bathroom, John pulled Sam gently out of the curled-up position he was sitting in and wrapped his arms gently around the smaller boy in a hug. At Sam's wince, John immediately sprang to life.

"Okay, we need to get your shirt off so we can see exactly how badly bruised you are," John said, huffing out a breath.

"It's fine," Sam said, too quickly. John raised his eyebrows.

"Come on. Arms up. Slowly."

Looking incredibly pained, Sam raised his arms stiffly above his head and inhaled sharply as the fabric slid over his ribs. John looked him over, just as he thought, the bruising was worse on his chest, and carefully ran his hands over his ribs.

"Well, I don't think your ribs are cracked. Just bruised," John assessed. Sam sighed heavily.

"Seriously, Sam," John said, "What happened?"

Sam was quiet for a long second. "My stepdad. We got in another argument and… well… I couldn't stay in the house. I, uh, snuck out my bedroom window. I hope it's okay that I'm here."

"Of course," John said, brushing his fingers over an unharmed patch of skin on Sam's face. "You can always come here when you need to. The house is kind of empty with just me here anyway."

Sam nodded, his lashes dark against his cheekbones. He looked nervously up at John. "Um, John?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just… I like you."

John laughed gently. "I like you too."

Sam shook his head, not quite making eye contact with the taller boy. "No, I like you like you. God, that sounds really dumb doesn't it."

"No, not at all," John was quick to reassure. "I like you like you too. I just didn't know you felt the same way."

Sam looked up at John, shocked. "Really?"

"Really." John closed his eyes for a fraction of a second and mustered his courage before placing his lips on Sam's delicately. The kiss was light as a feather and couldn't have lasted for more than three seconds, but when John pulled away, the two boys were panting.

"John?" Sam said, hesitantly. John murmured in the back of his throat, his eyes locked on Sam. "Do that again."

John kissed Sam again, just as delicately as the first time, careful not to press any more of his skin onto Sam's bruised body than absolutely necessary. He carefully slipped his tongue out of his mouth and traced the line of Sam's mouth with it, feeling the brunette shiver like he was being electrocuted. John pulled away and chuckled, feeling shaken as well, and suddenly he had ninety pounds of injured boy covering him, pulling him onto the bed, and kissing inches of skin that was exposed on his chest and stomach. John gasped and moaned, twisting under Sam's grip.

"Sam," John gasped. Sam nipped at John's chest, licking a stripe up over John's nipple. "Sam, wait."

The brunette jerked and immediately scampered off of the blonde, breathing heavily. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked down at his feet, the soles still darkened from his walk over to John's. "Sorry."

"No, no, no," John said, propping himself up and tipping Sam's gaze away from his feet with his forefinger. "That's not what I meant. I just meant that you're sore and vulnerable right now. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

"Would you regret this?" Sam asked softly. "If we were to-"

John kissed Sam. "No, not at all. But you might. Is this, y'know…"

"My first time?" Sam asked. "Five minutes ago I just had my first kiss. Do you really think that I would have had sex before now?"

John was dumbstruck. "That was your first kiss?"

"Yeah." Sam froze. "Wait. Have you ever-"

"Kissed, yes. Anything beyond that… no." Sam sighed in relief. "You're the only one I've felt this way about," John confided, and Sam smiled sweetly.

"Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it."

Sam hesitated before he responded. "I wouldn't regret it, you know. I've liked you since I met you." He blushed. John smiled, but underneath the joy something serious played on his features.

"Tell me if I hurt you," John whispered, and trapped Sam's mouth in a kiss, leaning into him and pulling him down onto the bed, shifting positions so he was hovering over the brunette. He pressed his lips lightly against Sam's bruised skin and traced patterns, licking lines of muscle that was surprisingly outlined under Sam's skin. When the blonde snaked his tongue up to Sam's chest and over his nipple, Sam's breathing, which was already irregular, turned sporadic, almost as if the brunette was hyperventilating. John looked up, a question forming on his tongue, _should I keep going?_, but Sam pushed John's head back down, interrupting the blonde's though processes and turning his mind to only one thing: Sam's boxers. He worried them down Sam's hips and sucked in a breath at Sam's cock, not quite fully hardened but still an impressive size. John glanced up at Sam, the smaller boy watching with interest, then hesitantly licked a stripe over the underside of Sam's length, smiling cleverly at the sound he wrenched out of Sam's throat. John continued teasing licks over Sam's flesh until he was fully hard, then swallowed the brunette to the base in one fluid motion. Sam groaned and fell back against the bed.

John continued his assault on Sam's cock, working it hard, sliding the length into and out of his mouth, demanding Sam come for him. And Sam did, suddenly, in a rush, his cock halfway down John's throat, with a loud outburst of sound and movement. John nearly choked but composed himself and swallowed, groaning, because Sam tasted so good, so much better than anyone had a right to taste. John swallowed as much of it as he could, making his own small noises and moans.

Sam propped himself up again and reached into John's pajama bottoms, his hand wrapped around John's length, stroking it cautiously, unsure of what John would like, using the precome leaking from the slit to keep the sensation from becoming too much. At John's gasp and deep groan, Sam sped up his movements until he was stroking John's cock as fast as he could, desperate to see John fall apart for him. John came for him in seconds.

Exhaling loudly, John tossed himself onto his bed by Sam, pulling him close.

"Was that good?" He asked the boy, drowsiness overtaking him.

"Yeah," Sam responded, kissing John's closed eyelids. "Go to sleep, okay? Sorry to keep you up."

"Don't be," John murmured. "It was worth it." He wrenched his eyelids open. "Are you okay? Will you be able to sleep?"

"Like a rock," Sam reassured, and cuddled up against John, he did just that.


End file.
